Oral Fixation
by badgerjaw
Summary: Mikasa and Sasha have an unspoken understanding, that is, until Sasha starts pushing the envelope. Domme/Sub elements. (Looks like I wrote myself into a third chapter. Cheers.)
1. Chapter 1

She props her arm up on the table with the spoon in her steady fingers. The stew doesn't even shift in the spoon's bowl and instead steams invitingly between Mikasa and Sasha. Mikasa is intent on the spoon as if contemplating its slightly bland flavor or the glossy brown gravy in which is suspended a chunk of carrot and a sliver of meat. She is not contemplating the stew at all, but rather observing Sasha through her peripheral vision.

It's obvious that Sasha is positively ravenous today. Shadis caught her chewing on the drawstrings of her uniform and made her run five hours again, which seemed to be his favorite punishment to give her. Not that running laps would cure her of that oral fixation Mikasa watched her develop from day one, but all that running is bound to work up a monstrous appetite, fixation or no.

Sasha merely watches Mikasa closely, not daring to glance at the spoon or the steam.

"Chew the inside of your lip instead," Mikasa says.

"Huh?" Sasha blinks and swallows deeply.

"When we're at attention and doing drills, bite the skin on the inside of your lower lip. It might help."

"Oh, maybe…."

Mikasa watches as the smallest area beneath her bottom lip flattens as Sasha tries out her advice. It's only a slight difference, one that serves to make her appear a bit more stern, but who's to say that today's laps didn't strike a chord with her? Mikasa smiles. "So?"

"Could you tell I was chewing?" she asks.

"Not at all."

A smile blooms over Sasha's face for the first time since that morning. "I think that'll tide me over just fine then. But since I don't need to do it now—"

She reaches for Mikasa's wrist and leans forward to accept the spoonful of stew. Face going cold once again, Mikasa pins down the offending hand and instead devours the morsel herself. Sasha's expression was delicious. Perhaps it was wrong to get such pleasure out of her disappointment and broken expectations, but it was not a pleasure Mikasa could see herself going peacefully without ever again.

"But I was good!" Sasha pleads. She squirms under her grip, though she wasn't trying very hard to free herself… just as Mikasa wasn't holding as firmly as she could be. "I did as you said!"

"Hush. You're making a scene."

"Are not! They're bored of our game."

"Shadis isn't."

Sasha's half-hearted struggles cease and she pouts. "Don't mention him. Saying his name summons him like a damn demon."

"Behave," Mikasa commands.

"But Mikasa I'm so hungry…" She drags out the syllable nice and long and clearly delights in the corner of Mikasa's eye twitching. She has very little tolerance of whining, disobedience, and disobedient whining. But only Sasha could see that little tell, that little crack in the wall of control Mikasa is. The tell that shows her feelings about it are more complex than she'd like to admit aloud.

"Then behave," she hisses, her grip on Sasha's wrist gentle, but the tips of the fingers clutching the spoon bone-white.

"Or what? Hm? You'll stop feeding me and bossing me? What a crock threat that'd be." Sasha's eyes glint with amusement and she plays with the drawstring of her shirt as if to put it in her mouth. But after a moment a part of her lip disappears between her teeth instead. Mikasa's grip on her spoon loosens.

"Shadis."

"I've gotten better at running. Bet I could outrun everyone in 104 and I'll get better at anything else he tosses me." The cocky way she says this doesn't quite meet her eyes, but Mikasa believes her. Sasha runs like lightning, leaving little more than an after image burned into retinas.

"Next time there's a sparring session, I'll be your partner."

Sasha's eyes widen. Mikasa imagines the expression is coupled with an almost audible dropping of the other girl's stomach. "What?"

"I've never fought you before. I'd like to."

"B-b-but, I don't—"

"How easily do you bruise?"

"Okay, okay. I'll behave." She straightens up and holds herself with as much poise as she can muster with her arm still trapped under Mikasa's hand. Mikasa studies her face for sincerity. Sasha isn't a bad fighter in the least, merely unfocussed most times and caught up in doing things her own way. Admittedly, that got her out of more scrapes than in, and Mikasa wouldn't leave a fight with her without her own black and blue souvenirs. But because of this her dread rings a little off to Mikasa. Not completely false however. After a long moment, Mikasa loosens her grip on Sasha's wrist, her fingers hesitating on Sasha's skin as she pulls her hand back.

"Where were we?" Sasha asks, now the very picture of posture.

Mikasa nods and dips her spoon back into the cooling stew. Sasha's eyes rest firmly on Mikasa's, no longer distracted by copious amounts of steam. Again, Mikasa props her elbow on the table and presents the reward between them with a steady hand.

"Now, if you behave—"

The bowl is in Sasha's hand, as cleanly and all at once as if it had teleported there of its own will. She presses the lip of the bowl to her mouth and sips the gravy deliberately, without removing her gaze from Mikasa, who watches with tightening mouth and furrowed brow.

"Sasha!"

The corners of Sasha's mouth start to curl at her name and some gravy nearly escapes because of it. She sets the bowl back down and catches it before it can stain her uniform, but still grins at Mikasa with a look of pure satisfaction that makes the emotions churn in Mikasa's stomach. For want of a fork or spoon, Sasha plucks the lingering vegetables and meat out one by one with her fingers and Mikasa doesn't know whether she wants shove the entire bowl down her throat and watch her choke or pull her over the table and take back what should be HER job. Instead she stabs the table with her spoon and leaves it standing there. Sasha merely glances at the spoon and the ruined wood, none of her grin fading.

"Sasha, that is not behaving," Mikasa says as calmly as she can manage.

"Ah, you spilled your stew." She pops a bit of potato into her mouth and dabs at the mess with her napkin.

"Why are you doing this?"

Sasha shrugs absentmindedly. "Why do you treat me the way you do? Why me?"

"You seemed to enjoy it. You kept returning where others would feel I didn't like them." Mikasa averts her eyes and returns the shrug with less conviction. "Answer my question."

"I don't wanna say." Her smile softens. "What's my punishment then?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Relief ripples visibly through Sasha's face and shoulders. "No sparring then? Perhaps you can let me off this once…?"

"No! That's unacceptable. Your disobedience can't go without punishment or you'll be a lost cause and I can't do anything with that." She clutches her scarf as she thinks. She didn't know when there would be another sparring session and she can't very well school Sasha over something that happened days or weeks before. It had to be immediate or led up to with a short period of anxiousness so she can mull over her wrongdoing. Mikasa needed the control. "Tonight, an hour after curfew, behind the barracks. I'll teach you the value of obedience."

"Sounds like a tryst." She looks up through her eyelashes as she says it, pressing a carrot to her lip.

"It's not a tryst. I simply don't want to get in trouble for what I'm going to do to you." Mikasa crosses her arms roughly and hopes that the motion distracts Sasha from the heat in her face. What a betrayal.

"What if I don't go?"

"I'll stop feeding you like this," Mikasa replies. She has no desire to stop, but she had the conviction to do so if need be. Not at all peacefully, but she could. "I'll take your absence as a plea to stop and I'll stop my food abuses and leave you to stuff your face in peace."

"You don't have to do that!"

"Then come and try to win."

"I can't win against you! I'm pretty sure you can bench-press Reiner."

"I've tried; I can't."

"I can't tell if you're joking or not." Sasha face has fallen, the weight of the consequences of her disobedience seeming to crash around her like a toppled building. "I still can't beat you."

"I'll patch you up afterwards, and if you want I can give your wounds a kiss to help them heal if that's a thing you still believe in." Mikasa makes the addition mostly in jest, but she couldn't deny that she would if Sasha asked her to, for the thought of Sasha so vulnerable that she would ask for such a thing in seriousness tugged at her heartstrings in a warm way.

"But what if I don't want to fight but I also want you to keep doing this with me?"

"Think of an alternative." Mikasa stands and adjusts her scarf. "Maybe it'll be more suitable, since I'm not very good at thinking up punishments."

The drawstring slips between Sasha's lips as Mikasa leaves her to mull over her options.


	2. Chapter 2

Curfew came and went with little peculiarity to the others, and went on cheerfully with the clatter of boots on the floor and brushes on nightstands, good nights tieied around the barracks, and the rustle of sheets over skin and pajamas. Beds creaked as occupants get comfortable. The barest of whispers break through relative silence like the deep boom of cannons. The breaths of many slowed until it was as much a background noise as the wood of the building shifting in the cool night.

Mikasa left the comfort of her bed once she could be sure that Ymir was truly asleep. There's nothing worse than owing that girl a favor and—quite frankly—once was enough for Mikasa. She glanced towards Sasha's form, only to catch the glint of her eyes in the delicate threads of moonlight just above the blankets. Without waiting to see if she will follow, Mikasa wrapped her scarf around her neck and left the barracks.

Behind the barracks stood nothing but the bald face of a cliff and evergreens at its base. Moonlight spilled into the space between. The cliff made Mikasa nervous; any sound will reverberate of it and alert others to their little game. Even her breathing seemed to bounce off of it with ease. There really wasn't much to be done about it however. Anywhere else would fall into the night watch's view and with the trees nearby, they could find shelter in their shadows. As quietly as possible, she sat on one of the crates lining the wall of the building and takes in the terrain while she waited for Sasha.

Not long after, Sasha tiptoed around the corner in a somewhat ridiculous manner, pulling her knees high with her shoulders hunched. Mikasa watched her with some amusement as she checks around the corner to be sure no one followed her out, is hushed with her hand when she opens her mouth to question her.

"Okay, I think we're good," Sasha said, her voice cresting barely above a whisper. "It's hard to leave tracks on this ground but there is some loose dirt around here."

"Is that why you were stepping like that?"

"Sorta."

"Well, you looked ridiculous."

"I was tryin' to make you laugh." Sasha shrugged. "That was my plan. Get you to laugh loud enough to attract attention, run for bed, leave you to get in trouble for violatin' curfew, and win without a single bruise. It's how I win with Connie."

She patted Sasha's shoulder lightly. "No luck."

"Stupid plan." She shrugged again and smiled as brightly as the moon.

"Maybe. Shall we start the punishment then?" Mikasa stood and lead Sasha further into the darkness, not missing the way Sasha's face fell slightly.

"I guess. Oh but we-!"

"Shh."

"Sorry, but we never said what I would get if I won."

"Whatever you want, I suppose."

"Whatever I want, eh?"

"Within reason." Even in the deepest shadows, Mikasa saw a flicker of resolution awaken in Sasha, as if there was a sharpening of her faint outline, and she couldn't help but smile at the change. She raised her fists. "Tell me when you've had enough."

Sasha didn't reply and only matched the stance as well as she could, but she was tense and unmoving. Something faltered in Mikasa at this, gave a little shiver of doubt in her chest. Why had this been the idea that came in her head at the table? Was she really prepared to do something like this over what was little more than a game? The more she asked herself these questions, the more her stance crumbled.

She couldn't hit Sasha. As much as she wanted to tease her and boss her around at the table, this was not the way to maintain that. There had to be better ways. Punishments that actually fit the crime of Sasha's rebellion to their play.

"Sasha."

"Come on, Mikasa, let's get this over with, _please._"

"It's over with. I forfeit." She fell out of the remainder of her stance. The same thing that faltered within her before seemed to let out a deep sigh in time with the relaxation of her body.

Sasha's arms fell to her sides. "I don't understand."

Mikasa ran her hands through her hair and looked away. "I don't want to spar. It was a ridiculous idea and I don't want to hurt you. This was dumb."

"So I win?" She sidles up next to Mikasa, her smile catching moonlight like a shallow basin and what overflowed spilled into Mikasa and hardened the doubt she felt so keenly into certainty.

"Yes, you win," she said. "By default, but it's a win nonetheless."

"I'll take it!"

"Shh, Sasha!" Mikasa hissed. She clasped her hand over Sasha's mouth and drew her tightly against her in the darkness, searching the shadows cast by torches near and distant for signs of purposeful movement. She felt Sasha's lips form an apology against her palm, silent and fluttering, so that her fingers tingled as she lowered her hand. They were still safe.

Sasha didn't pull away. "So I can have whatever I want then?"

"I suppose so."

Their voices seemed loud to her, but she knew they spoke with only their breath now like the soft rustle of a small creature picking through the dry undergrowth. Her heart pounded against her ribs, hard enough that maybe Sasha felt it too through the thin materials of their pajamas. It seemed hard enough to bruise inwardly. She swallowed and found it difficult.

"Within reason." Sasha echoed Mikasa's earlier words as her arms slipped around Mikasa's body.

"O-of course."

In the glint of Sasha's eyes, Mikasa swore she saw a bit of fear being swallowed whole by something bigger. "Tell me if I'm being unreasonable," Sasha said.

"I wi-"

Sasha's lips were on hers and what words remained in her mouth became simple and distant at best, falling apart to make way for the strange, gentle force. Despite herself, Mikasa stiffened at the suddenness of it. She never before felt a keener hatred for herself over something so small as when Sasha pulled away entirely too soon because of it. The feelings mixed in her stomach violently, painfully, as she imagined the details of Sasha's expression in the silence that followed.

Sasha took a breath as if to say something. Mikasa pressed a finger to her lips. "Again," she said. "I'm ready this time."

A little sigh escaped from Sasha as Mikasa's hand fell away and her arms tightened around Mikasa's waist. Her fingertips pressed against her enough that Mikasa could feel her nails through the cotton as short as they were.

Her lips pressed against hers once again, but this time delicately and with shaking breath ghosting over their lips. Mikasa clung to her and met Sasha with rougher kisses that were much shorter. After a moment Sasha giggled at it and caught Mikasa's bottom lip with hers to keep her still, the shaking and nervousness melting away. The churning in Mikasa's stomach subsided as well, leaving behind a pleasantly raw feeling in its stead. Her arms wound around Sasha's neck, her fingers diving into her hair to free it from the ever-present ponytail it was always in. Sasha whined a little and bit into Mikasa's lip hard enough that she felt the mark long after, so she left it.

Sasha reached up for the scarf as if to remove it. Mikasa rebuffed her by slapping her hand away.

"But Mikasaaaaa, it's in the waaaaay," she whined.

"Scarf for hair tie," Mikasa answered with a kiss on Sasha's nose. "It's a fair trade I think."

Sasha shifted from foot to foot with indecision, discontent little noises drifting from her. After a long tense moment, she tugged on the end of the scarf and allowed it to unwind from Mikasa's neck at an agonizing pace, leaving the soft skin feeling raw from the friction of the worn material. Sasha's lips replaced it without hesitation, a low moan startled from the depths of Mikasa. Mikasa's hand went back to the hair tie as she clutched Sasha closer. It slipped out easily and she wore it round her wrist so as not to lose it. The scarf, however, was lost in the darkness.

"Sasha?" she said. It was difficult to speak.

She sighed softly, albeit with some impatience, and patted the crate next to them. "Where's your focus, hmm?"

Mikasa pulled her hair in reply. Sasha gave a groan, her fingers digging into the small of Mikasa's back. On a whim, Mikasa drew her tongue up along Sasha's full exposed throat, ending with a scrape of teeth and the smallest of tugs. The older girl whined at it. Her grip loosened and the control was easing back into Mikasa's grasp. What a terrible thing; she had barely noticed that she lost it.

"Where's _yours_?" Her hands dove under the hem of Sasha's night shirt, tracing the dips and ridges of her spine, her palms reading the shivers that rolled through her muscles like thunderstorms. She turned them and pressed Sasha against the wall of the barracks, kissing up her neck and nipping her jaw.

"M-Mikasa…"

Mikasa pulled at Sasha's night shirt, swallowing deeply to dissuade the reforming nervousness. "Satisfied with your reward yet?"

"I-I don't…" Sasha's words came on shallow breaths. Mikasa's breath was playing against her ear and against her better judgment she didn't move to release her from its influence. "I mean to say—I don't know."

"I don't want to stop," Mikasa said. "If you want me to, then I w-will. But otherwise don't worry."

"O-oh."

Sasha pulled away ever so slightly and in that brief moment Mikasa feared that this was the end of this thing, whatever it was. But as quickly as the fear came, it left in about as much time as it took for Mikasa to find herself pinned on the ground in a light haze of dirt with Sasha straddling her waist. The relief on Sasha's face was so bright that it could rival the full moon.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Mikasa," she said.

"You're really hard to read."

"Hunters have to be."

She bent over her and kissed her roughly, her hair cascading around their faces. Mikasa's hands were under her shirt again faster than a rabbit darting for the underbrush, taking in the contours of her body with ravenous hands, curious fingertips, cruel nails, desperate palms. Once more, she pulled at Sasha's night shirt—how easily ripped such worn material could be—the hem slipping up over her back and belly. Sasha's hands moved to her wrists as if to help. Instead, she drew them up and away, up over Mikasa's head.

"Sasha?"

"I wanna see why you want my obedience so much," she replied, a giggle passing from her and straight into Mikasa's lungs, her mirth seeping into her bloodstream at a dizzying rate. "I wanna see what you're like when you don't have that control. Just once. Then you can order me around for the rest of my life."

Mikasa couldn't help but mouth her agreement against Sasha's lips without a second thought. Sasha giggled again and wiggled excitedly on top of her, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on Mikasa. Or perhaps too aware. Mikasa was positively drunk on Sasha's influence, pleasantly so, agonizingly so. She balled her hands into fists above her head in an effort to cling to what sobriety remained in her.

"No sound," Sasha said, and kissed her throat.

Before that would have been no problem at all with the threat of being caught bearing down on her, but now that Sasha told her not to, it felt imperative that she should. Like breathing or her heart beating, it seemed necessary to her survival that she be able to moan under Sasha's touch. Whimper at the little touches that littered each inch of newly bared skin as the buttons of Mikasa's pajamas came undone. She hissed with no consequence, however, when Sasha's thumb passed lightly over her hardened nipple, her hand curling gently around the curve of her breast. With equal success, she let out a long sigh when Sasha's lips and teeth followed to coax erratic little twitches from Mikasa's body.

It took Mikasa a long moment to realize that in the wake of Sasha's mouth, Sasha was taking advantage of Mikasa's grinding hips to ease her out of the rest of her clothes. She probably wouldn't have noticed if the cool night air wasn't playing against her. Soon Sasha travelled down with them, wreaking havoc in her wake as her tongue traced the muscles under her skin.

Her mouth drew away. It wasn't until her pajama pants and underwear passed over her ankles and onto the ground that Sasha set her lips upon her again. She kissed Mikasa's knee and caressed her thigh with hands that seemed to tremble. Or perhaps, it was her thigh that trembled. Perhaps even both. Regardless, Mikasa could feel Sasha's mouth wanting to form words. Mikasa, for once unable to read her face, settled on touching Sasha's hand with hers.

After a moment, the trembling stopped and the source now made unimportant.

Sasha swatted Mikasa's hand away with a quiet click of her tongue. "No touching," came the hiss of her breath as slipped down her inner thigh. Mikasa squirmed under her as her kisses and nibbles descended and she found it difficult to decide whether she should close her legs or open them further. Sasha's mouth was too much to bear, yet not enough. Eventually, with the subtle guidance of Sasha's nails scratching the length of her other thigh, Mikasa's legs fell open and settled comfortably over Sasha's shoulders. Sasha looked up at Mikasa for a long moment.

Then Sasha pulled apart her folds and, full of hunger, licked the length of her without looking away. Mikasa arched so high at the contact that she very nearly sat straight up. But Sasha laid her palm firmly against her stomach and kept her down, her fingers and nails digging into her flesh.

Her lapping was slow and tenuous at first for all its confidence. She tasted her wetness and tested it, dipping into her one moment then flicking against her clit the next and pausing to pull her labia between her teeth. Mikasa writhed under each of her little experiments. Sasha had a magic mouth, full of tricks and sleight of tongue and teeth that seemed all to able to saw her in half with one misstep, one misjudged placement. She already felt as if she were falling apart at the seams, as if the very fabric of her being was at the mercy of Sasha Braus's tongue.

Sasha's lips enclosed her clit and she sucked it gently. Gentle or no, Mikasa forgot herself and wove her fingers into Sasha's hair with a warbling gasp. Sasha chuckled against her and peeled her hands away, ceasing her terrible, wonderful mouth as she did.

"What did I say?" Her breath pulsed upon her, distracting her.

"N-no touching. Sasha p-please," she answered, trying as hard as she could to keep the whine out of her voice.

"Yes. And?"

"Uh, no s-s-sounds?"

Sasha nodded and released her hands. "I'll stop next time.

"No!" she hissed, and locked her ankles around Sasha as hard as she could without splintering her backbone. "Don't you dare!"

Sasha giggled at the reaction and flicked her tongue against her again, silencing her. Mikasa arched again and clutched her own mouth to keep them busy and keep the sounds welling up in her chest at bay.

It wasn't long before Sasha settled into a maddening rhythm with her tongue, and Mikasa could sense naught but the precipice fast approaching. She bucked hard into Sasha, urging her to go faster, though she knew Sasha wouldn't concede. The thought pleased her in a way she wouldn't have guessed, but there it was, balanced on the tip of Sasha's tongue.

Then all at once, it came. Boiling waves engulfed her completely, seeping into her skin, her blood, her muscles until she stiffened with the power of it. She bit Sasha's name into the bones of her own hands.

As she rode it out, she felt Sasha crawl back up her body to lay on top of her, resting her forehead on hers. She kissed Mikasa's hands until they fell away. The ache of them sobered Mikasa more quickly than she liked.

"Sasha," she whispered and kissed her face. Tenderness overwhelmed her and it seemed hard to imagine that in the morning she would harden herself again and tease her with morsels of food. It was the last thing she wished to do right then. "Oh, Sasha."

Heat radiated off of Sasha, from her lips and her cheeks and the palm of her hands which cradled Mikasa's face to still her. "I take it you liked it?" she asked, sounding sheepish.

"Only a little bit." She tried to demonstrate just how little she enjoyed it, but her hands protested the motion. "Damn it."

"Poor girl, abusing herself into silence." Sasha clucked her tongue and rolled off of her. She crawled a small ways into the darkness.

"Wait Sasha—" Her scarf and pajamas pelted her in the face as she sat up. Suddenly, teasing her seemed to be a viable option again. "Sasha, I want to continue…"

"Not with those hands." Sasha returned to her side and helped Mikasa to her feet, careful not to hurt her hands further. She slipped her hair tie off of Mikasa's wrist and tie up her mussed hair.

"I can do what you did," she said. She doubted herself, of course. Mikasa didn't have that kind of talent with her tongue; at least, she didn't yet. But still she wanted to try to make Sasha into mere puddle of the girl she was now. Vengeance for how easily she was able to whittle Mikasa down With some difficulty, Mikasa dressed herself as Sasha peered around the corner.

"Another night," Sasha said. "Let's go back to bed before we get caught."

Another night? Sasha gave her a quick smile as she watched Mikasa weigh the possibility.

"Alright. Another night," Mikasa said and followed Sasha back into the comforting and unknowing darkness of their barracks.


End file.
